


Sheer Torture

by Boomchick



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Broken Bones, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Torture, Near Death Experiences, Starvation, Threat of Cannibalism, Torture, attempted hanging, captive Sephiroth & Cloud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boomchick/pseuds/Boomchick
Summary: Weeks after their capture, exhausted and brutalized, Sephiroth and Cloud only have one night left to say goodbye before their captors string them up for a final, twisting dance.A one-shot self-indulgent hurt/comfort, apropos of nothing.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 6
Kudos: 181





	Sheer Torture

**Author's Note:**

> An old post from Tumblr that I forgot to post here!  
> There's some bad stuff mentioned in this. I think I warned for the most upsetting portions, but proceed with caution.

Sephiroth’s breathing had never evened out after the day their captors broke his ribs. It had been the fifth day, and it had taken them hours of hard work. They’d tried everything from bolt cutters to crushing. Cloud knew, because they’d made him watch. The damage when Sephiroth’s body finally gave way had been bad, and his body was too weak from days of intentionally-inflicted near-death experiences for them to heal. Since then, it had only gotten worse.

So when he first spoke that night, his voice was too quiet for Cloud to hear him. At least, too quiet to break through the scream that had burst from Cloud's lips the moment their captors had left. The moment he'd seen what 'gift' they'd been left for the morning. He couldn’t take his eyes off the rough loops of rope, left to dangle empty outside their cell. They would only be empty until the morning. Then the nooses would be full and heavy with the burden of their bodies.

A soft touch on his thigh dragged Cloud’s attention to Sephiroth. He choked off the helpless scream tearing at his throat, biting back the panic and misery. He looked down to his companion, hero, and friend—The black, swollen eye, the waterlogged hair, the bright purple bruise on one cheekbone. Despite the pain he had to be in, his pale lips quirked up into a half smile at Cloud’s bleary attention. The expression split open his only barely healed lip again, and blood beaded, bright and red and new compared to the dark stains under his nose and on his chin from earlier torments.

“Sorry,” Cloud whispered, voice stuffy from the tears clogging his vision and his throat. “What?”

“Are you alright?” Sephiroth repeated, the words barely a whisper past his lips.

“They haven’t hurt me,” He assured, gently brushing away the fresh blood on Sephiroth’s lips. He tried not to look at the nooses again. "What did they do to you today?”

“Drowning.” Sephiroth replied, closing his eyes wearily. Cloud’s finger smeared red on his lips when he spoke under his touch.

“How bad?” Cloud asked, trying for some sense of normality even as he wiped Sephiroth’s blood off his finger onto his thigh.

“I’m still here,” Sephiroth replied with a shrug that made his whole body quiver in pain.

There was no piece of him they had not hurt; from the leg that still had buckshot stuck beneath the skin, to his cracked ribs, to the seam of stitches down his stomach that Sephiroth still would not explain, to the broken fingers and the discolored shoulder that Cloud could only hope was dislocated and not broken. Not that it made any difference now. His right arm still lay useless at his side, the three unhealed puncture marks still plainly visible. Sephiroth had given a raw laugh when Cloud had asked about them.

‘ _They said us Soldiers were filled with acid anyway_ ,” _He’d replied, his eyes giving off a dim glow in their pitch black cell and his voice a little to exhausted to count as scathing anymore._ “ _What difference would a little more make?_ ”

Cloud caught a breath, tried to force away the thoughts of the past days—weeks? Months? He wasn’t sure. Sephiroth probably knew, but there were more important questions for Cloud to ask.

“Think you can hold out a little longer?”

It was an old question—One that had started the first day, when they’d held Cloud at gunpoint to ensure Sephiroth’s cooperation while they began to tear him apart. At the time, Sephiroth had scoffed almost playfully in reply. But as the days wore on, his answers had grown less hopeful. For the past five days, he had promised Cloud ‘I can last three more days.’

Tonight his lips just turned up in that strained, fond smile again, and he stayed silent. He must have seen their death waiting outside the cell. And maybe, even without that, he couldn’t have been able to hold on much longer.

Cloud’s tears brimmed over, and he curled slowly over Sephiroth’s head, as though he could protect him. He twined his fingers into his tangled hair, cradling him in the only way that would not put him in agony.

“It’s going to be okay,” his voice was hardly audible. “The others have to be coming. They’ve been coming since that first day. Everything’s going to be okay, Sephiroth.”

The tears dropped heavily into silver hair, hot and painfully salty. Cloud was too dehydrated to be crying like this. He should have saved his strength. He was too hungry and too dry to be falling apart.

Outside the bars, the two nooses twisted in the breeze of the air conditioning that kept even their small sanctuary freezing.

“And if it’s not—” Cloud’s voice choked. He gasped in a breath through the tears. He didn’t want to die here. He didn’t want to die. But Sephiroth... Sephiroth, who had been so strong for him, who had held out so long only for this to be his ending… He could be strong for him. He had to be.

“Even if it’s not okay,” Cloud choked. “Even if they don’t come, I’ll be next to you. You’ll be the last thing I see, and that's—"

“Cloud.”

The word was stronger than usual, but it cost something. Sephiroth fell into a coughing fit, and each motion was clearly a world of hurt, wracking his abused body, jostling his broken ribs.

Still he didn’t scream. Not in front of Cloud. He hadn’t their whole captivity. Not even when they’d brought Cloud in to watch them cut off and cook pieces of Sephiroth’s calf. He’d only made any noise at all behind his gag when they’d tried to force Cloud into eating the newly seared muscle. Even then it had been a sound of outrage on Cloud’s behalf. It had succeeded only in turning their aggression back on him and away from the trembling, retching trooper. Cloud shuddered at the very memory. He’d refused any scraps of food they’d brought him since then. Just in case.

But though he’d been silent and stoic in person, Cloud had heard him down the hall, out of their little room. When Sephiroth was alone, Cloud had heard him screaming as they slowly tortured the life out of him.

“Enough.” Sephiroth continued when he at last regained his breath, turning his head to press his face into Cloud’s protective shoulder. “I know.”

“I’m sorry,” Cloud whispered. “I wasn’t strong enough.”

“You fought every day. There is nothing to apologize for. You have done—” He wheezed to a stop. Tried to catch his breath. Cloud had no water to give him—no food to replenish his strength. He could only wait. “You have been a true fighter.”

“I’m not giving up.” Cloud clenched his fists, careful to keep them safe from tangling in Sephiroth’s hair. He could still clench his fists. He wasn't dead yet. “They’ll have to drag you away from me.”

He pulled back just a little to meet Sephiroth’s eyes—to stroke his hair back from his face. Sephiroth looked at him like he was the sun. He had ever since that first night, when they’d been tossed into the cell with Sephiroth still bloody and half-dead from their captors experimentation with shotguns and the healing abilities of a Super-Soldier’s body. Ever since Cloud had scrambled to his broken form and stripped out of his shirt to try and staunch the bleeding.

“Alright.” Sephiroth gave him a shadow of a nod. “Then we fight.”

His hand raised. Slow, painstaking. Cloud let him do it—didn’t try to interrupt or catch the motion. Sephiroth was still fighting too.

“No more tears.” The order was given in a soft voice, but it was not a question or a request by any stretch of the imagination. “We are not yet beaten. We are not yet gone. Don’t let them…”

His fingers reached Cloud’s cheek. It may as well have been the peak of a mountain for how it seemed to drain Sephiroth’s strength. He stroked his fingers over the wet, hollow flesh of Cloud’s face, inelegantly cleaning him of his sorrow. He seemed to lose track of his words, his eyes going bleary and distant.

“I’ll try,” Cloud promised, turning into the touch.

“Mm. Lie with me?”

That was a request. Sephiroth never demanded comfort—never ordered care. That Cloud gave freely, and was happy to give. It was all he had in this cold cell. He stretched out carefully at Sephiroth’s side, his hand resting as light as it could over Sephiroth’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing.

“I wish I could stay awake with you,” Sephiroth whispered. “This one night, if no more. I know it’s likely to be our last.” His voice petered out at the end, his bright eyes closing wearily. His skin felt chilled, and Cloud rubbed his hand over his chest slowly, scratching away dried blood and trying to warm him while he waited for him to continue. “But I am very tired, Cloud. I do not think I can force myself awake much longer.”

His words were slurring. His eyelids drooping with every word when he managed to open them at all. He looked dazed and weary after so many days of torment. He was so weak now, all of his reserves spent on the effort of keeping himself alive.

“You can sleep,” Cloud sniffled hard, propping himself up on one elbow so he could wipe his face on his hand. “You can sleep. I’ll stay right here, all night. If you wake up, I’ll be here.”

A twitch of pale lips. A weary humming sound. Sephiroth turned his head towards Cloud, but he did not speak again. His eyes closed, his breathing nothing but pained wheezes, he slept. Cloud stayed up the night, watching him, trying to memorize the contours of his face, as though it would make some difference to how they were going to die the next day.

Rescue came before the noose on Cloud’s neck was tight. But even still, it was late. So late. Sephiroth could hardly stand. When the ambush came to save them, their captors had been positioning Sephiroth in his noose, ready to hoist him and Cloud together and watch their final dance. At the first sound of gunfire, the captors had dropped him. Sephiroth's feet were on the ground, but he did not have the strength to straighten. His knees buckled, weak as water, and the noose tightened around his pale throat without any executioner needed.

Cloud had given everything fighting them that morning. Had forced them into breaking his bones to protect Sephiroth. Had been dragged out by his hair, and had been forced to watch as they dragged Sephiroth out the same way. Despite his strength, despite his determination, Sephiroth had been left with nothing left to fight with.

“No!” Cloud screamed, slamming back into the man who’d frozen behind him at the sound of gunfire.

His hands were bound behind his back, but that was just as well. He grabbed the crotch of his captor’s pants, and crushed what he found there. He didn’t stop to relish the squealing sound the man made, ducking out of the rope that would have been his death and crossing the space between himself and Sephiroth in two quick, lurching steps. His hands were bound. He couldn't hold him up, but he braced Sephiroth’s chest with his shoulder, and tried to keep him upright. He could feel Sephiroth strain to help—to use the support. But even still he was turning red in the face, and his breaths grew more and more strained. Their bare feet on the cold floor stuck, and held, and Sephiroth kept breathing.

It lasted forever, that moment of him trying desperately to hold Sephiroth away form his death. Feeling his skin hot with fever and strain as he battled for this one last moment. For each tiny inhalation.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, as long as it had lasted, it was over. Someone was lifting Sephiroth’s weight off him, and a familiar voice was speaking his name. Zack, he thought. And then ‘Zack’ again, until he realized he was saying it—chanting it—even as he crumbled beside his friend—even as Zack lay Sephiroth carefully on the floor and placed a hand in Cloud’s blonde hair. Even as Soldiers and troopers swarmed through, guns and swords in hand, ready to murder the ones who had torn apart their general.

Cloud did not have the attention for any of that. There was only Zack. There was only Sephiroth and the new red mark around his neck. There was only the sound of all three of them breathing.

“The medics are coming,” Zack kept saying, over and over. “The medics are coming. Keep breathing. Hold on, okay?”

It surprised Cloud to realize that he was not talking to Sephiroth, but to him. His hand over Sephiroth’s lips was checking his breath, and his gaze darted back and forth between them, but he was speaking to Cloud.

“They were killing him,” Cloud replied, dully. Everything felt so far away... “I’m fine.”

Zack’s worried, bewildered look didn’t matter, Cloud thought. All that mattered was Sephiroth breathing. It wouldn’t hurt if he lay down to hear him better.

“Help is on the way,” Zack said again, even as Cloud dropped bonelessly by Sephiroth’s side, his hands still bound too far away to check his pulse, but his ears working well enough to hear the rushing hiss of his breath. “Everything’s going to be okay, buddy.”

“I told you so,” Cloud whispered to Sephiroth. There was no answering exhausted smile, but Cloud was certain that if Sephiroth had been awake, there would have been.

It took Cloud a serious course of IV liquids, four rounds of being cured, inspected, and cured again, and a healthy dose of painkillers for him to even begin thinking clearly again. And the first, disjointed, desperate thought that flashed through his mind was how hungry he was. And the second was that Sephiroth had been dying.

Zack was right with him. He had been all day, Cloud realized once his mind started to put things together aside from white rooms and beeping machines and exhaustion.

“Where is he?” He gasped to his friend, reaching out with a shaking hand.

“Same place as the last time you asked,” Zack said softly, taking the hand and patting his fingers gently. “I don’t know anything new, Spike.”

“No, I—” Cloud swallowed, grimacing at how dry his throat was.

Zack shook his head, shifting closer and sitting on the bedside. Cloud made a soft sound of displeasure, but let Zack feed him ice chips, and comfort him with quiet words till he could speak again.

“I don’t remember what you said before.” Cloud finally managed to say, blinking slowly and feeling sleep pull at him again already. “My head feels all fuzzy.”

“You were starving to death, buddy.” Zack’s words were gentle, but filled with a numb sort of terror that didn’t show in his soft smile. “Fuzzy headed is to be expected. Sephiroth’s in surgery. Has been for about five hours now. They’re still figuring out what all happened.”

“I can help,” Cloud whimpered, but even he could hear how weak it sounded.

“I know you can,” Zack assured him. “But you need to rest for now. Once he’s stable, I know he’s going to need us with him. For now we have to let the doctors work, Cloud.”

“You were late.” Cloud whispered, his brows twisting.

“I know.” Zack stroked his fingers gently, running his thumb over the once-broken knuckles of Cloud’s hand carefully, over and over again. “I know, Cloud.”

“Thank you for coming.” Cloud added, because he didn’t want to hurt Zack. He just wanted him to understand.

“Of course,” the tears in Zack’s eyes didn’t suit him, but Cloud let him be without commenting. “I wasn’t about to leave my best friends behind.”

They sat together, waiting. Cloud let Zack pamper him with careful pets of his hair and ice chips till his throat started to feel human again. He didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed by his weakness. All the energy he had was spent on willing Sephiroth to be alright. To survive this too. To be there when Cloud was able to go to his side.

He shouldn’t have worried. Sephiroth had not survived it all just to give up in surgery. By the end of the day, Cloud’s insistence and desperation had won him a place in the same recovery room as Sephiroth. He had a feeling it was out of desperation that the nurses allowed it. He hadn’t been able to lie still. He certainly hadn’t been able to eat.

“Here,” Zack said, returning to their room. “Jello for the gentleman. Mako green and everything. They say you’ll be able to handle more soon, but this should be a good start.”

“He looks so pale,” Cloud whispered, his eyes only for Sephiroth.

“He looks better than he did when we found you,” Zack said firmly. “You were a little out of it, so don’t worry if you don’t remember, but he is definitely improved.”

“They hurt him so bad,” Cloud whispered. “I couldn’t stop them.”

“Eat your jello,” Zack prompted, pressing the spoon into Cloud’s working hand. “And then get some sleep. You don’t have to fight anymore right now, Cloud. You just need to recover.”

Cloud did as he was told, because he trusted Zack. But he couldn’t take his eyes off Sephiroth. Not even when the tears started dripping off his cheeks, making the jello taste salty until Zack helped wipe them away.

The very first thing Sephiroth did when he woke up was get out of bed. Cloud knew this, because he woke up to a huge body dropping onto his own resting place, and stretching out beside him with a heavy sigh of relief. He blinked open bleary eyes, saw only silver, and smiled.

“Welcome back.” He whispered.

“Mm.” Sephiroth pressed a soft kiss to Cloud’s scalp, one arm snaking around his middle with more strength than Cloud had seen in him since the second day of their captivity.

“I have to give you this one,” Sephiroth whispered into his hair, his voice already regaining some of its strength, even if it did rasp with dehydration and disuse. “You were right.”

“Yeah,” Cloud murmured with a smile. “Old news. You slept through me gloating.”

“Sorry to have missed it.”

“How bad?” Cloud asked, lifting his good hand to rest over the arm Sephiroth had wrapped around him.

“I’m still here.” Sephiroth replied.

“Think you can hold out a little longer?”

Sephiroth scoffed against Cloud’s scalp. And to his credit, he did not scold Cloud for bursting into tears.

It was just as well. They both got the scolding of a lifetime when Zack showed up to find them tangled together and asleep instead of resting properly in their beds.

Eventually, even Zack’s righteous indignation settled. It settled almost exactly the same moment he had bullied Sephiroth back into bed and helped the nurses re-connect his monitors. All of this, Sephiroth took with reasonably good-natured huffs of annoyance. Cloud watched it all through eyes clearer than they had been in a long time, as Zack helped Sephiroth every step of the way, and touched their fingers together when the nurse re-connected the IV drip.

But it wasn’t until the nurses left the room and the three of them were alone than anything of importance was said.

“Next time push the call button instead of making yourself worse, would you?” Zack muttered, without any actual heat in his words. He was tracing his fingers over Sephiroth’s, with a firm scowl on his lips that had much less to do with anger, and much more to do with fear.

“I needed to check.” Sephiroth sighed. “He was sick a long time.”

“You can’t seriously tell me you were worried about me.” Cloud complained from his own bed, still missing the heat of Sephiroth at his side. It didn’t feel right, him being so far away. It was hard to convince himself he was safe across the room, even while he was looking right at him.

“Uh, trust me, Spike, you need worrying over.” Zack agreed.

“I was just a little hungry. You’re the one they were hurting, Sephiroth.” He muttered in quiet objection.

“Trust me, I’m aware. But your hunger was just as dangerous at the end.”

“Speaking of, sorry for the dramatic timing.” Zack commented, turning to Sephiroth with a worried twist to his brow. “Didn’t mean to cut it that close.”

“Mm.” Sephiroth gave him a flicker of a smile. “It’s alright. Cloud had me well in hand.”

Cloud sighed, rubbing his wrists, but smiling a little to himself anyway. It was good to hear Sephiroth sounding like himself.

“Yeah he did.” Zack agreed fondly, even as he almost cautiously straightened Sephiroth’s hair for him. He obviously wanted to pamper him like he was doing with Cloud, but it was harder to approach.

“Zack, would you do me a favor and give him a hug?” Cloud requested. “Since someone says I’m not allowed out of bed.”

“Sure, buddy,” Zack said with a pleased sigh and a grateful look. When he bent over Sephiroth, it was with the utmost care, his hand resting on his head and their cheeks touching together, brotherly and compassionate and gentle. Cloud could see how his hands shook with concern, and nodded to himself wearily when Sephiroth’s hands lifted to brace him, IV line, pulse monitor and all.

“You two will be better in no time,” Zack promised as he pulled away from the touch. “And until then, I’ll be right with you, bullying you into doing what the nurses say.”

“Good to be home.” Sephiroth replied with a low chuckle.

“Yeah,” Cloud whispered, his eyes fixed on Sephiroth.

When the General looked back, there was something intense in his gaze. Something unspeakable and deep, past the discomfort and the still-visible bruising. Something that cut straight to the heart of Cloud.

“Do you mind if we have a moment?” Sephiroth asked, flicking his gaze to Zack.

“Take five moments,” Zack replied, standing and stretching. “I need coffee. But stay in your beds, lovebirds.”

“Yes mom.” Cloud groused, smiling softly at Zack’s back as he sauntered out of the room.

And then there was silence, and Sephiroth, and Cloud.

“You saved my life.” Sephiroth commented after a while.

“Zack saved your life,” Cloud objected, shaking his head. “I couldn’t do anything.”

“You kept me going.” Sephiroth objected. “Right until the end. Every step of the way, as hard as it was for you. You kept fighting for me, Cloud. That made all the difference.”

Cloud swallowed hard, shaking his head a little. But he didn’t argue again.

“You were…” He trailed off. Then steeled himself to speak the truth. “You were amazingly brave. I don’t know how you did it.”

Sephiroth shrugged with a small smile, humming to himself and shifting uncomfortably in the bed.

“We’ll talk more when we’re both well. How do you feel? Honestly, Cloud.”

“Not great,” Cloud replied with an awkward laugh that trailed into a wheeze. “Better than I have been, I guess, but without anyone to hate, and without worrying about you I guess I notice how uncomfortable I am now.”

“Mmm.”

“And…” Cloud broke off, then swallowed and forced to continue. “And it’s… Scary. You’re only over there, and we’re talking, and it’s fine… But I still feel like…”

“Like being apart is frightening?” Sephiroth asked, his eyes lidded but clear. “I understand.”

“You too?” Cloud asked softly.

“A little.”

“Sorry.”

“Please don’t be. Your comfort… Made all the difference.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Cloud whispered.

“And I you. When we are free of medical, will you stay with me a while? My apartment is big enough for two, and you already enjoyed visiting.”

“Yes please,” Cloud whispered. “I don’t… I don’t know how I’m going to go back to day to day life. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start with rest.” Sephiroth murmured softly, soothingly. “Everything else will follow. And Zack and I will not leave you alone.”

“Thank you.” Cloud whispered.

“Just sleep,” Sephiroth urged softly. “Sleep.”

“Mm,” Cloud found his eyes already closing, but pried them open, watching Sephiroth just a moment longer—As long as he could.

Three nights later, Cloud jolted awake to a loud ‘thump’ and the loss of his blankets. He sat up fast, still wound tight from captivity, and blinked to clear his eyes. He turned swiftly towards the empty place Sephiroth should have been, and found the trailing end of a blanket. The next thump galvanized him, sending him jolting forward to look over the side of the bed.

Sephiroth lay there in a tangle of blankets, shaking and gasping, still wrapped in whatever nightmare had driven him off the bed. His face was twisted in pain and fear—expressions he never would have worn awake.

Cloud allowed himself a moment—only a moment—to be relieved. It was a nightmare. They were… They were something he could face. He was in bed. He was in Sephiroth’s bedroom. He could walk out the door. He could make himself breakfast whenever he wanted. He was safe. He was free.

He slipped his legs off the bed, sliding down beside Sephiroth to sit at his side on the floor, gently stroking his hair back from his face. He kept his touch light, and his presence patient. Sephiroth was hissing in shallow breaths between his teeth. He was dreaming of suffering, and Cloud dared not wake him too fast. He was not afraid of Sephiroth, but he was aware that he might be in danger if reality and memory blurred in Sephiroth’s mind too fast.

“It’s alright,” His voice was only beginning to sound normal again after days of recovery. “You’re safe, Sephiroth.”

Once, it would have been unspeakably strange to try and comfort the porcelain-perfect Soldier. But that was before Cloud had seen the blood beneath his skin, and how clearly pale flesh showed dark circles underneath exhausted eyes. It was before he’d watched Sephiroth gasp and cough and grate back sounds of pain. It was before he’d stroked Sephiroth’s hair through fevers and pain and quiet, voiceless despair. Now, at least, he had some comfort to give.

“You can wake up,” Cloud whispered down to him, sliding one hand down his arm, snaking under the blanket to twine their fingers together. “Everything’s alright now.”

Sephiroth’s lips twisted, and he gave a soft choking sound. His hand clawed in Cloud’s grip, just for a moment, then the tension started to settle. His body dropped from its tense arch with a slow exhalation, and the fingers that had clawed under Cloud’s touch twitched once more, then curled around his.

Bright, blessedly-lucid green eyes flicked open and fixed on him at once. Then Sephiroth let out a low, displeased hum and shifted in the sheets that had fallen off the bed with him. He didn’t dislodge Cloud’s touch, though.

“Sorry.” He sighed, untangling his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“How dare you have a nightmare.” Cloud teased dryly, leaning down to press a slow kiss to Sephiroth’s forehead.

When he pulled back, Sephiroth was shooting him a confused half-scowl. But his face cleared into amusement when he saw that Cloud was joking. he even let out a huff of amusement before levering himself up. Cloud didn’t allow himself to push him back down like he wanted too. Too much time spent recently urging Sephiroth not to move. It had made him twitchy, even now when Sephiroth was fully capable of sitting up without injuring himself.

“Bad one?” Cloud asked, shifting to sit pressed against Sephiroth’s side.

“Not the worst.” Sephiroth replied, noncommittal as he had been since the day he woke up. “Apologies for waking you. I know you’re starting physical therapy tomorrow. You could use your rest.”

“I’m fine,” Cloud objected, shaking his head. “Slept more in the past few days than… Well. Than in a long while.”

“You don’t have to dance around it.”

“It feels like I do. You were hurt worse, after all.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“No. But I don’t want to hurt you more.”

Sephiroth tilted his head, nuzzling his cheek against Cloud’s hair and letting out a gusty sigh.

“I could use tea,” he said instead of answering. “Do you want to sleep more?”

“I want to stay with you.” Cloud squeezed the hand he was holding “If that’s okay.”

“I won’t object.” Sephiroth squeezed gently in return before untangling their hands to rise smoothly to his feet. It was like he’d never been wounded.

Or it would have been if Cloud didn’t know better. If he hadn’t seen Sephiroth’s calf, where the flesh they’d cut away in an awful hunk was still regrowing, filling in from the inside out, leaving his skin whole, but concave. If he hadn’t seen the scar down his stomach that stubbornly refused to vanish. If he hadn’t seen first hand how easily Sephiroth was still exhausted. Even the walk to his apartment had been a strain on them both.

Sephiroth shifted, the bare, scarred leg Cloud had been observing shifting back half a touch, twisting to hide the malformed, still-healing calf. Cloud jerked his eyes up to meet Sephiroth’s gaze with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” he whispered, even as Sephiroth offered him a hand.

“It’s alright,” Sephiroth murmured, helping Cloud to his feet easily. “I know it’s… Striking. It will heal soon.”

“Bad memories.” Cloud held onto Sephiroth’s hand a moment longer, steadying himself. His body, which had held out from sheer desperation in the face of danger, had taken it out on him the moment it was free too. Even standing was exhausting.

“I know.” Sephiroth murmured, squeezing his hand.

“Not your fault.”

“Hn.” A faint smile. “I know that too. Still, I can dress if—”

“No,” Cloud shook his head intently, removing his touch and straightening. “No. It’s okay. It’s not your leg’s fault.”

“But if it disturbs you—”

“It doesn’t. Not really. It’s good to see it healing. I’m just resisting the urge to… I don’t know. Pet you.”

“Oh?” Perfect silver eyebrows arched as his lips curled up in a smile around the murmur.

“Don’t give me that dirty look, Sephiroth, you know what I mean.”

“Hn.”

“Sorry,” Cloud sighed. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Tea,” Sephiroth shifted, wrapping his arm slowly around Cloud’s shoulders. “You’re still cold.”

“Well, you took all the blankets with you.” Cloud muttered, though he knew that wasn’t what Sephiroth meant.

Still, the Soldier let out a low chuckle. He squeezed Cloud gently as they walked to the kitchen together—one of them strong but limping, the other unhurt but weak.

The tea was warming, and that meant a lot to Cloud. He really was still cold, like he was carrying some part of their captivity with him. The doctors assured him it was just an effect of the starvation, but that didn’t help like warmth did. Like tea, and the quilt that Sephiroth draped over his shoulders, or the way the Soldier sank into the seat next to his on the sofa and leaned against him, radiating warmth.

“So,” Sephiroth cleared his throat. “You were staring because… You wanted to pet it.”

“Looks uncomfortable,” Cloud muttered bashfully, his too-thin fingers wrapped gratefully around the teacup. The swelling in his knuckles and joints was finally starting to go down as he healed. “I want to…I don’t know. I want to help.”

“You do help.”

“Not just in the ‘being here’ way, Sephiroth. Though I’m grateful you don’t mind me staying close while we still can.”

“It’s more than not minding.”

“I just want…” Cloud trailed off, eyes closed. “I just wish I could make it go away for you. I wish I could go back and time and be strong enough to get us out of there, or at least to fight back or…”

“Or to be tortured and killed alongside me?” Sephiroth offered with an arched brow. “They underestimated you because you were fully human. Your dedication to me and tenacity kept us both alive. And…” He trailed off. Even though Cloud couldn’t see his face, Sephiroth’s cheek was resting on his head, and he felt the muscles in his cheeks tighten as he worked out his words.

“And your kindness,” He said slowly, his hand sliding slowly over to rest on Cloud’s thigh. “Was unexpected. And very deeply appreciated.”

“I couldn’t really do anything, though.” Cloud objected. “It was just what anyone would do. Not anything special.”

“It was to me.” Sephiroth shook his head, wrapping his fingers together around his own cup of tea. “I am used to being hurt, but being tended to was… Though you say anyone would do so, you were the first for me.”

Cloud swallowed, staring into his teacup. He fought back the well of tears at the hesitant honesty in Sephiroth’s voice.

“Will you let me again?” He asked, sounding almost strained as he choked back sorrow.

“I am not hurt, Cloud.” Sephiroth had that sound about him like he was trying to be soothing, but there was an almost despondent note to his voice.

“But you’re not well yet either.” Cloud objected softly. “You’ve been looking after me. Can’t I for you sometimes?”

“You would still want to?” Sephiroth’s voice had gone strangely dull. Flat. Cloud swallowed back nerves. “I’m healing fast, Cloud. Soon I will be perfect again. How much longer will you care to—”

“Forever.” Cloud interrupted quickly, pulling from Sephiroth’s hold to face him. He sloshed a little tea on his fingers, but he didn’t mind. “As long as you’ll let me. I don’t… I know we were pretty new together before all this but… Just because you aren’t dying anymore doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here for you.”

Sephiroth watched him, face impassive. Then his lips turned up at the corners in a soft smile.

“And that’s the only reason for wanting to?”

“Well,” Cloud murmured. “It’s most of it. And maybe it’s a little that I’m still trying to convince myself that we’re really okay. That you’re really…”

Sephiroth met his gaze, and his expression softened instantly. He leaned forward till he could touch their foreheads together, and let his eyes flicker closed. Cloud followed suit a moment later, closing his eyes and letting out a slow breath through his nose.

“I feel the same.” Sephiroth whispered after a moment. “Not always, but sometimes. So if it will help you, then I would gladly let you inspect me.”

“You don’t have to pander to my paranoia.” Cloud sighed, starting to pull away.

“Cloud,” Sephiroth’s eyes flicked open, and he gazed up at him through heavy eyelashes. “It is selfish as well. I would like very much to feel kinder touches over the marks left on me. I am not used to scarring.”

Cloud watched him for a long moment, then smiled softly.

“Well,” he murmured. “We’d better finish our tea and get comfy then, huh.”

The night passed in the smooth touch of hands on skin. First it was Cloud tracing every lash mark still emblazoned on Sephiroth’s back, and every scar across his stomach and chest, and the needle-marks stubbornly remaining on his inner elbow, and the deep chunk of missing flesh on his calf. Then it was Sephiroth’s wide hands tracing over Cloud’s exposed ribs, and down the knotted line of his spine.

And for a while, Cloud pressed his ear against Sephiroth’s chest, listening to how his lungs still rasped as he felt out the places where his ribs had been knotted and misshapen by their violent breaks. And for a while Sephiroth stroked Cloud’s hair in comfort as he’d wanted to in captivity and had lacked the strength to do.

Eventually, they fell asleep together once more, a tangled pile of affection on the bed. Cloud’s lips pressed to the faint rug burn mark behind Sephiroth’s ear—the only remainder of his near-disastrous final brush with death—and Sephiroth’s arms wrapped around Cloud’s too-thin waist—a lasting symbol of how close Cloud had been to the same.

Breathing through the night together made it a little easier. So did the night after that, and the night after that, till the noose was a faded memory, and Cloud’s waist was muscled and healthy again, and Sephiroth's scars had begun to fade.  
  
But where the wounds had vanished, their hands and lips remained, and in time they spent many nights together without the shadow of death lingering by the bedside.


End file.
